Who in the World is Mary Noble?
by konarciq
Summary: Yes, who? A burning question, not only among the readers here, but also among the people in Stalag 13... Written for the SSSW tournament.


**Who in the World is Mary Noble?**

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* * *

_A story prompted by those who wondered about the identity of Mary Noble in the tournament story,  
and starting with the first line of _The Revenge of the Plot Bunny_, by AGroovie1.  
To be read as the continuation of the tournament story._

* * *

Carter burst through the door of the barracks carrying what looked to be a magazine of some sorts and stopped in front of the table, out of breath. "Colonel," he panted. "It isn't true!"

"Hey, can we have some peace and quiet in here?" LeBeau groused from the shadows of his bunk.

But Carter was way too excited to pay heed to his sleeping mates' needs. "Colonel Hogan! Where's Colonel Hogan?"

Instantly, the Colonel appeared in the doorway to his office. "What's the emergency?"

"Colonel, look!" Carter held up the magazine. "The bank has decided not to foreclose on Mary Noble after all!"

From the bunk across the room came a grunted, "Who in the world is Mary Noble..." in an unmistakable Scottish drawl.

But before Carter could even open his mouth to explain the lady's status, another voice joined in the conversation. "That's what I would like to know, too. _What_ is going on here long after lights out?"

Schultz.

"Oh, hi Schultz. Out for a walk?" Nonchalantly, Hogan crossed his arms over his chest.

"Nein. Colonel Hogan, what are you doing out of bed? And you, too, Carter – why, you're still dressed! Hop, into bed with you."

"But Schultz...!"

"No, into bed, I said. You boys are worse than my children! Hop, hop! And I'll take that magazine if you don't mind." With the paternal practice from years, he pulled it out of Carter's hand and stuffed it inside his coat. "Perhaps you'll get it back tomorrow – _if_ you're a good boy now and go straight to bed."

"Aw, Schultz...!" Carter began, but Schultz was inexorable.

"Hop! Into bed with you. Tomorrow you can read again. But..." Schultz paled. "Colonel Hogan, where is Newkirk? His bunk has not been slept in! Colonel Hogan...!"

"You looking for me, Schultzie?"

"Newkirk!" It had been a long while since Schultz had been so happy to hear the Englishman's irreverent voice. It didn't last long though. "Where have you been? What are you doing out of the barracks? And why are you all dressed?"

Newkirk grinned. "You really want to know?"

"Yes," said Schultz with uncharacteristic determination.

"He's been to the latrines," Hogan cut in.

"After lights out? Colonel Hogan, it is verboten to..."

"You want to stop a man from answering the call of nature? Schultz, that's inhuman!"

"But-but-but-but... he can get shot if he's outside the barracks after lights out!"

"Well, that's a risk we've got to take. But really, Schultz, keeping it up until tomorrow after roll call... Have you ever seen the lines at those latrines in the morning? The men all rush there as soon as Klink yells his, 'Dismissed!'" He frowned. "You know, maybe it's got something to do with the way he draws out that word. Diiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiissssssssssssmissed!" He looked around. "Anyone feel a sudden urge to go to the latrine?"

"Oh, just let us sleep," LeBeau mumbled, and folded his arms over his head.

"There. You see, Schultz? You're keeping us all awake. Now why don't you continue your rounds and let us catch some shuteye, okay?"

"But Carter and Newkirk were...!"

"Carter and Newkirk are in their bunks, trying to catch some sleep like the rest of us."

One look convinced Schultz that Newkirk and Carter indeed were where they were supposed to be: one apparently asleep, the other casting sour looks at him. "Come on, Schultzie, give us some peace," Newkirk complained.

Schultz 'hng-ed' loudly in impotence, and stomped out of the hut.

"So," the Colonel said once the door had fallen shut. "How did it go?"

"Great, Colonel," Carter whispered. "Did I tell you that the bank hasn't foreclosed on Mary Noble after all?"

* * *

Schultz didn't recall the magazine he had taken from Carter until he started to get ready for bed an hour or so later. He looked at the first page in the dim light of the guards' barracks. The page was dominated by the picture of a pretty girl. Schultz chuckled. "Of course."

The guard in the bed next to his stirred. "What's so funny, Sergeant?"

Schultz handed the magazine to him. "I confiscated this from the prisoners tonight. They were looking at girlie pictures after lights out."

Mittendorfer sighed. "Can't blame them." He studied the picture with intense interest. "She's real pretty. Who is she?"

"I don't know." Schultz had continued getting ready. And then, "I believe they called her Mary Noble."

"Mary Noble..." Mittendorfer's voice dreamily trailed off. "That's a beautiful name. Almost as if she's a countess or something." He looked at the picture again. "Who is this Mary Noble?"

"I don't know. Read the text."

"I can't read English."

"Then ask one of the others tomorrow. I," Schultz emphasized, "Am going to bed now."

So Mittendorfer had to exercise his patience until morning.

* * *

"Hey, look at this." Under the mess hall table, he showed his treasure to Schnüffis next to him.

"Whoa..." Schnüffis breathed in honest admiration. "She's gorgeous! Who is she?"

"Her name is Mary Noble," Mittendorfer replied with solemn dignity.

"Is she yours?"

"Well, the picture is. Schultz gave it to me last night."

Schnüffis chuckled. "To put it up on the wall next to your poster of the luscious 'Katinka'?"

Mittendorfer blushed up to the roots of his hair and took back the magazine. "Mind your own business."

But news got around (as it always does), and all morning, every guard who could spare a minute from his duties (and even those who couldn't) flocked around the young corporal to catch a glimpse of the mysterious Mary Noble. Who was she? A queen in exile? The heiress to an ailing billionaire? A fashion queen? A successful suffragette? A movie star from Hollywood perhaps? Speculation ran rampant, and the desirable Miss (or was it Mrs.?) Noble was the talk of the camp among the guards.

Until Captain Gruber got tired of his guards acting like flies around the syrup bowl and confiscated Mittendorfer's seductive dream. Of course he, too, wasn't immune to the charms of the other sex, but after an hour or so of private fantasies, he did the only rational thing to do – he brought the case – including the magazine – to Colonel Klink.

"What's this?" Klink looked sour at the umpteenth interruption of his paperwork.

"A magazine, Herr Kommandant." Gruber straightened up to attention and fixed his eyes on the wall behind his superior officer as he had been taught. "The guards had more attention for the young lady in the picture than for the prisoners they're supposed to be guarding. And since the magazine obviously originates from the prisoners, I thought it best to hand it over to you."

"Ah. Yes. Of course." Klink picked up the magazine, fascinated by the dark beauty in the picture. "Thank you, Captain. Dismissed."

He didn't even notice the Captain saluting, clicking his heels and marching out of the office – his eyes were glued to the page. Who was this lady-dream?

His eyes sought out the text by the picture. It was but a short caption. _Mary Noble is safe; bank decides not to foreclose on her. Mon 4.30 p.m. NBC._

He frowned. He prided himself on his excellent understanding of English, but this was rather cryptic. How could you _foreclose_ something? Close it before you got there? Had they been trying to stop this Mary Noble from going somewhere? From going to the bank? But why would she not be allowed to go to the bank? She didn't exactly look like a bank robber, did she? Was it an all-male bank perhaps, and had she challenged that and tried to open an account for herself?

He pondered the question for quite some time – if only because it was more interesting (and certainly more attractive) than his endless paperwork. And only the door of his office being thrown open could get him to tear his eyes away from the pretty woman. "Go away, Hogan, I'm bus... Ah, General Burkhalter, what a pleasant surprise! I did not expect a visit from you, sir, but you..."

"So I see." Burkhalter pursed his lips in disapproval. "Who gave you permission to read girlie magazines on duty, Klink?"

"Me, Herr General? Reading girlie magazines? Ha ha! The General must be joking. I wouldn't dream of reading girlie magazines. Especially not when I'm on duty. Ha ha."

"Then what is that you're holding?"

"Oh, erm... that. Yes." Klink squirmed. "I confiscated it from the prisoners. And I was inspecting it for... contraband. Yes. These prisoners, sir, you can never trust them!"

A sweaty eyebrow was raised. "Contraband, eh? Let me see that." A commanding hand was stretched out towards the magazine, and Klink could do little else but lay it in the General's hand for inspection. "Here you are, sir."

A little smile tugged at the corners of the General's mouth. And a soft, approving murmur escaped from his throat. "Now this is a lady I would like to meet. A true lady of class. Who is she?" he inquired with his subordinate.

"I believe her name is Mary Noble, Herr General."

"Do you now." Burkhalter peered at the short line of text. "You're wrong."

Klink almost lost his monocle. "I am?"

"Yes. As even an imbecile can see, it's obviously a typo. It should have said _Marry Noble_ – with two Rs. Then it makes perfect sense – marry into a noble family, and you'll have so much money that the banks will never declare you bankrupt."

"Ah," was all Klink said at first. And cowered a little. Surely the General wasn't talking about his marrying his sister again?

"Although I must say I'm surprised," Burkhalter continued pensively. "I hadn't thought these rebellious Americans would ever come to see the value of the Old Order. Actively promoting to marry nobility..."

"Yes. That is very unlike them." Klink brought his unruly senior prisoner-of-war to mind. That crazy man, marrying a titled lady? The poor girl... But... "Then who is the lady in the picture?"

Burkhalter shrugged. "Probably just a stock photo of some nubile young duchess."

"Of course." Klink's head bobbed up and down in agreement. "Just a stock photo. May I say how marvellously you deducted that, Herr General, and..."

"You may not!" growled a grating voice.

Hochstetter...

"What is the meaning of this? Are we fighting the war with girlie magazines now? Paah!" He grabbed the magazine out of Burkhalter's hands and peered at it in disgust.

But suddenly, his eyes went wide. "Who is this woman?"

"We're not quite sure," Klink helpfully filled him in. "At first we thought her name might be Mary Noble, but the General here has come to the insightful conclusion that it must be a stock photo of a random titled lady."

"She's obviously a spy," Hochstetter declared.

"A spy, major?"

"Yes. Her eyes are too close together." Hochstetter walked around the desk and seated himself in Klink's chair. And took one of the papers on the desk, glared at it with distaste, and turned it over. And began to copy something on it from the magazine.

"Major, that is my paperwork!" Klink cried.

"Find yourself some other paperwork – I have a code to crack. Now let's see... The 4.30 p.m. is obviously a time, and NBC must be the location. North Bremen Central Station? Nieder Braunschweig Café? No, it's likely to be something English. But first... Mary Noble. Mary Noble is safe. Safe? Could this be a person or a place? A depot or something? Or is it a project for which they give the go-ahead?" He began to scribble on the back of Klink's form, crossing out things and jotting down new ones. And Klink looked unhappily on...

At last, Hochstetter balled up the form and threw it in the approximate direction of the bin. And took another of the forms on the desk.

"Herr General!" Klink ventured a renewed protest. "He's ruining my paperwork!"

Burkhalter just sighed. "How many times do I have to tell you, Klink – never interfere with the Gestapo."

"Of course, Herr General. Never interfere with the Gestapo."

But at that moment, Hogan came breezing in. "Good afternoon everyone! Oh, hi major, I didn't see you there. Are you having a paper drive?"

Hochstetter snapped his pencil in two. "What is this man doing here?"

"I just came to ask the Kommandant about... oh, there it is: Carter's magazine." He snatched it off the table, but Hochstetter was quicker.

"Hands off, Colonel Hogan. This magazine is under Gestapo investigation."

Hogan was genuinely surprised. "Gee, what did it do? Pull a face at Old Bumblebrains?"

Hochstetter glared at him, but all he said was, "That, I am trying to find out. Now go away."

"But it's our magazine!" Hogan protested. "Carter only got it in the mail yesterday – we've barely had a chance to read it ourselves!"

"And you probably never will. This is highly classified information, and I shall get to the bottom of this. I promise."

"He thinks the lady in the picture is a spy," Klink confided in a half-whisper.

"A spy? She?!" Hogan burst out laughing. He had no idea how this had come about, but it was too good _not_ to turn to their advantage. And the best way to do that was... "Kommandant, that lady is _not_ a spy. She's a fictional character in a famous radio play!" He hiccupped with laughter. "Mary Noble a spy... wait till Carter hears about this!"

Hochstetter sent him another glower. "I don't believe you, for I can see right through you. You just want to have your coded magazine back. Well, forget it, Hogan! I will go over this magazine of yours with a fine-toothed comb, and only when I'm _absolutely_ convinced that the content is harmless will I release it to you – maybe."

"Yes, it's surprising the censors didn't catch onto it," Klink wondered.

"They were probably distracted by the picture of that seductive spy," Burkhalter thought. "Quite effective indeed; I'll propose the strategy to the Führer on the next meeting of the staff. But as you can see, Hogan, not even the sharpest mind is able to fool the Gestapo."

"Of course not." Demurely, Hogan lowered his eyes. "I don't know what I was thinking, trying to fool the major into giving back our magazine."

"Exactly," Klink beamed. "So you're dismissed, Hogan. Major Hochstetter has an important job to do. So we'll let him work in peace until he has broken the code."

Hogan saluted, and quickly left the office. But the moment he was outside, a wide grin spread over his face. "Let him break his head on that so-called code... Who'd have thought you can fight a war with _fictional_ characters?"

* * *

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_And what Mary Noble has to do with Hogan's Heroes?  
Take out your dvd's, and watch the episode _The 43rd, a Moving Story_!_


End file.
